You Kissed Her One Time
by ForsakingSilence
Summary: "I just know Liv a little better that's all." Lincoln said, picking up his cup of coffee. Behind him, Charlie snorted derisively, "Right, 'cause you kissed her one time." A one-shot exploring just how that might have happened.


**AN: This was a prompt my sister gave me. She wanted a one-shot for Christmas, based on the Lincoln/Olivia kiss alluded to in 3x03 The Plateau (and the very end was at her request). This is also my first attempt at FF in the Fringeverse, and as always, I own nothing.**

* * *

**You Kissed Her One Time**

"You know, Liv thinks I'm right," Lincoln Lee said, standing beside the desk where his friend Charlie Francis sat. "About there being chain reactions that led up to the crashes."

"Okay. Well, now that you two have, uh, rediscovered your Vulcan Mind Meld, do you think she's doing okay?" Charlie asked.

Lincoln frowned, "Yeah. Why, you don't think so?"

"I don't know. I just, I just feel a little uncomfortable."

"That's not a shocker. You let a Doppelganger cold-cock you with a bottle because you didn't pick up on the fact that she wasn't your partner."

"And you would have?"

"I just know Liv a little better that's all." Lincoln said, picking up his cup of coffee.

Behind him, Charlie snorted derisively, "Right, 'cause you kissed her one time."

Lincoln froze. The smug expression on his face vanished instantly. Now that was hitting below the belt.

* * *

_He spotted her across the room. She had arrived late, and alone. Looking beautiful in a short dress and high heels, a sight he never thought he would see._ _And before Lincoln knew it, he had crossed the make-shift dance floor in the middle of the HQ canteen, to stand in front of her. _

_He wanted to say she was gorgeous as hell, but wavered, the words stuck in his throat. He had no courage. Not when it came to Olivia Dunham, Fringe agent extraordinaire, partner to Charlie Francis; an all around stunning woman with a commanding presence and wicked sharp-shooting skills. _

"_You and that dress should file for divorce." Lincoln said, opting to tease. His comment gained her attention and earned him a smirk. _

_He watched her assess him, and a tiny chill raced along his spine as a smile touched her soft lips. She seemed impressed by his choice of evening attire: a sharp black suit and white dress shirt. Lincoln was aware this was a first for her as well, seeing him out of their everyday Fringe Division fatigues. His hand nervously adjusted the slim tie he wore, and she returned her gaze to his face. _

"_You do realize how inappropriate that sounded, right?" _

_Good old Liv, always ready to banter._

_Lincoln faked a cringe. "Purple is not your best color." He would have to do overtime at confession for all the lies he was telling; if he ever went to confession that was._

"_Yeah, well, I didn't pick it." She said, folding her arms over her chest in defiance. _

_His green eyes twinkled; her stance was just too good to ignore, and he enjoyed their game. "Maybe, if you stood like a lady…"_

_Olivia blinked. "What?" She glanced down at her posture, legs apart, hip cocked. She shrugged, gesturing with both hands. "What's wrong with how I'm standing? I always stand this way."_

"_Liv, this is a Christmas Eve party. Not the interrogation room."_

_She rolled her eyes, but didn't bother to shift her position. "If you're gonna insult me, let's talk about you. What is this, a tie? How badass. Oh, and do you even own a comb? Or is this, I just got-out-of-bed tussle supposed to be sexy?" She reached out and mussed his hair, then moved to pat the chronic scruff on his chin. "Lose your razor again?" _

_He laughed to distract himself from her touch. It seriously hampered his ability to think straight and left a searing imprint on his cheek. "And what, you're here by yourself? Couldn't find any takers on the plus one, huh?"_

_Her brow pulled into a quick frown, and when she didn't answer, Lincoln had the distinct feeling he'd taken their jokes a step too far. Who would dare stand up Olivia Dunham?_

"_I hate these parties." She looked behind him at the excess of co-workers engaged in seasonal merry making. Lincoln followed her lead and turned just enough to see Fringe Division's best and brightest drinking, laughing, eating, talking, and dancing together. The DJ in the corner pumped out the top-twenty hits and some holiday oldies. _

"_Yeah, me too," He said. "Hey, do you wanna dance?" _

_Where had that come from? _

_Olivia hesitated, and then grinned. "Sure, I'd like that."_

_Something in the way she took his hand first gave Lincoln the guts he needed. He led her onto the floor amid the other couples, spinning her to meet him. They had stepped in on a particularly slow song, and luckily, Olivia wasn't shy about personal space. He had admired her from afar for so long, that the moment he felt her fit against him—warm and firm, yet supple and feminine—he almost pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming._

_The evening passed quickly, and surprisingly enough, rather enjoyably. Olivia never left his side and Lincoln never felt prouder in his life. He thought himself doomed to the friend-zone, since the first day they met, but now he had hope for something more. They talked and ate and danced. After a few drinks, the talking became more laughter than anything else. He soon learned she had an adorable snort that occurred if she chuckled for too long. And he made a point of sending her into giggle fits so he could hear it._

_Midnight found them on the dance floor again; the lights dimmed low. Lincoln held Olivia with both arms wrapped about her waist, and she cuddled into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He had removed his tie, and she played with his unbuttoned collar, her index finger occasionally tracing a pattern against the hollow of his throat that nearly made him miss a step. _

_Her cheeks rosy from the intense Macarena they had endured on the last set, and the booze they had been slugging appeared to be making her sleepy. Olivia hummed along with the current song. A sappy ballad Lincoln only appreciated because it afforded him a reason to hold his girl close. He noticed her hair smelled good: soapy with a hint of vanilla. _

_Wait, his girl. When had that started?_

"_I have to pee." Olivia said, pulling out of his grasp and ruining the moment. Lincoln felt the warmth of her leave him, and wanted it back. _

"_You just went." He said, standing in the middle of the floor. Other people turned (or staggered) slowly around them. _

_Olivia tugged his hand. "That was an hour ago, come on." She began pulling him towards the nearest exit. The facilities were on a different floor (thanks to renovations). Lincoln let her drag him as far as the elevator, but as the doors slid open, letting out a drunken couple, he stopped short. "Liv, I think you're old enough to go on your own."_

_She wrinkled her nose and cuffed his elbow. "No! I need you to stand guard. It's a one stall toilet, and somebody busted the lock on the outside door." _

_He sighed._

_Five minutes later, they returned to the elevator. Lincoln stabbed the appropriate button, and settled back against the handrail, arms folded. He watched Olivia adjust her dress, fixing a strap that insisted on slipping off her shoulder, but when she flipped her hair like a shampoo commercial, he looked away. Did she even care what she did to his insides? _

_Glancing up at the ceiling, Lincoln caught sight of something unusual. As a Fringe agent, it was his job to spot and identify such things, and he squinted to get a better look. A mischievous smile touched him as he recognized the clump of green and red foliage dangling above: mistletoe. _

_Someone upstairs liked him. _

_He looked at the panel. How many floors to go? Three? The alcohol in his system boosted his resolve (mercifully, or he would never have been able to go through with it), and Lincoln wasted no time in closing the gap between them. Olivia let out a small gasp as he claimed her face in both palms, planting a kiss square on her lips._

_It should have ended there. He had intended to give her a quick peck and be gone, ready to duck the slap or punch that would soon fly his way, but instead, things took an unexpected turn. Olivia was suddenly kissing him back! Her arms encircled his neck, drawing him nearer. _

_Her response was nothing short of glorious. Lincoln's mind went blank and he moved on instinct. Walking her backward until they found the elevator wall, he placed a hand against the cold metal for support. Olivia clung to him, her lips were moist and vigorous, exploring his own as if unleashing pent-up curiosity. She tasted like chocolate, and he recalled the ice cream sundae she had eaten earlier. It frustrated him. He wanted to sample the real her. The tip of his tongue darted out to trace her bottom lip, asking for more, and she eagerly obliged; opening her mouth with a moan that set his whole body on fire. _

_He was going to corner the mistletoe market after this! How long had they worked side by side, neither one aware of the others desire? Her hands fisted in his hair, and he knew she found the unkempt way he wore it sexy indeed. Lincoln pressed flush against her, his fingers trailing her hip. He had to be dreaming._

_The elevator ground to a halt, the doors pinged open, and Olivia went rigid. Breaking the kiss abruptly, eyes wide, breathing hard. _

"_Frank!"_

"_What?"_

"_Whoa."_

_They both turned to see Charlie standing in the hallway, staring. "Please tell me she was choking and you just happened to know CPR." _

_But Lincoln wasn't listening. He switched his focus back to Olivia, still trapped between him and the wall, her face ten-shades redder than her hair, and cried, "Who the hell is Frank?!"_

* * *

"How was I supposed to know she had a boyfriend?!" Lincoln said defensively, but there was no sympathy in Charlie's return gaze, only glee at his discomfort.

"Okay."

"Whatever." Lincoln said, painfully aware of the memory. "The point is, I would have known." Considering he never had a clue about the boyfriend, this declaration seemed flimsy, even to him.

Charlie shrugged, not buying it either. "Yeah, just keep telling yourself that, okay?"

Lincoln barely concentrated on the rest of the conversation, that fateful Christmas Eve still floating about in his head. As they finished, Olivia chose to saunter over, hands on hips. "Hey, Linc, what's up with the face? What are you thinking about, anything good?"

He blinked. How had she known?

Charlie coughed, "Vulcan Mind Meld." Lincoln suppressed a groan.

Someone upstairs hated him.


End file.
